The Long Game (Game Changers, #6)

by Rachel Reid

“Oh shit,” Shane gasped. Ilya started stroking Shane’s prostate in time with the glide of Shane’s hand over his cock. Heat flared low in Shane’s belly, burning up the last of his control. “Ilya. Please.”

Ilya withdrew his fingers. A moment later, Shane felt the head of Ilya’s cock tapping against his hole. “This?” Ilya asked. Shane didn’t answer. He just shifted his weight and sank down onto Ilya’s slick cock.

He went slowly because they didn’t do it this way very often, and because he wanted to draw out Ilya’s delicious groa...

Shane lifted a bit and sank back down, earning another groan. He grinned at the man he loved and said, “Hold on to something, Rozanov.”

Ilya gripped Shane’s hips, digging his fingers in hard while Shane rode him. It was exciting to watch Ilya like this, sprawled out beneath him, chest heaving as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Love your dick,” Shane panted. He had one hand planted on Ilya’s chest, the other gripping the back of Ilya’s left thigh. “Love taking you like this.” “Yo...

Shane let out a shaky laugh, adjusted his angle, and rode him harder. Ilya was falling apart beneath him, murmuring in Russian so garbled Shane c...

“You gonna come for me?” Ilya sucked in a breath. “Too soon. Fuck.” Shane stopped his ruthless bouncing and switched to a slow grind. “...

Shane smirked, loving the power he held. Loving how much he could make Ilya feel. Loving w...

Fuck, it almost was enough. Shane arched and clenched around Ilya’s dick involuntarily as he tried to thrust into Ilya’s hand. Ilya laughed and pulled his hand away. Shane whined in protest.

Ilya placed his hand on the back of Shane’s neck and pulled him down until Ilya’s lips were against his ear. “I think,” he said, in Russian, “you need to be fucked properly.”

Shane gasped and nodded, and seconds later he was flat on his stomach, face pressing into a pillow. Ilya grabbed his thighs and hauled his ass into the air, then thrust inside. “Is this what you need?” Ilya asked in a...

Behind him, Ilya only said, “Hollander,” before he stilled and pulsed inside him. Ilya didn’t pull out immediately. He carefully lowered himself until he was almost resting his full weight on Shane’s back, breathing hard against Shane’s neck. For several long moments, they just breathed together.

Eventually, Ilya began peppering Shane’s shoulders with gentle kisses, and his softened dick slipped out of Shane’s body. He kissed down Shane’s spine in an adoring way that made Shane sigh happily.

“Love you,” Shane murmured into his pillow. He reached a hand back, clumsily searching, a...

Eventually, he returned and tapped Shane on the shoulder. “Your turn.” “Mmpf.” Ilya laughed quietly and rumpled Shane’s hair. “Come on. You hate to be dirty.”

Ilya let his hand slide off Shane’s shoulder and down his chest. Shane took a small step backward, and almost relaxed against him. Ilya dipped his head and kissed Shane’s neck, and Shane relaxed more. “None of them matter. Not anymore.” Shane sighed. “I know.”

“Then why ask?” Shane turned. Ilya kept his arm draped over him, his hand now resting on Shane’s back. “I don’t know.” He thunked his forehead against Ilya’s chest. “Sorry.”

Ilya wrapped his other arm around him and held him close as he nuzzled Shane’s dark, glossy hair. It smelled like exp...

Shane exhaled loudly. “Are you ready to do another season of this?” Ilya’s heart stuttered. What did that question mean? “Another season of what?” Shane pulled b...

It would be, altogether, their eleventh NHL season of hiding. Seven seasons of secret hookups, and three seasons of being in a mostly secret committed ...

“Sure,” Ilya said. “I hate it.” “I know. Me too.” “I can’t believe no one h...

He tasted like coffee and home, and Ilya really wished he didn’t need to leave.

Shane smiled sadly at him. Three weeks wasn’t such a long time, but Ilya was so goddamned tired of having their relationship sliced up into single nights with weeks between them. Two nights in a row if they were lucky.

Except the summers, when they were together almost every day, and Ilya’s soul lightened as he soaked up Shane’s proximity the same way his golden-brown hair lightened in the sun. Ilya loved hockey, but he lived for the summers now.

“I love you,” Ilya said between the deep breaths he was taking in an attempt to cool his blood. Shane slipped out from between Ilya and the wall and squeezed his arm. “Love you too.” Shane exhaled, and Ilya politely ignored the tremor in it.

he began to remove his gear, feeling a million miles away. He used to be the center of this sort of thing, dancing in the middle of the room to make his teammates laugh. Now he only felt a bone-deep exhaustion that couldn’t entirely be blamed on the game he’d just played.

It hurt Ilya’s heart how badly this kid wanted him to come out with the team. How much it would mean to him. He knew Luca had idolized him growing up; he’d read the interviews. But Ilya just...couldn’t.

Later, in bed, Ilya couldn’t get his brain to shut up. It was unfortunate because his brain had nothing nice to say about him.

:(

He knew, rationally, that he wasn’t worthless. He was an NHL all-star, the captain of his team, and was beloved by fans. He had a wonderful boyfriend who loved him so much he was willing to endure a lot of stress and sneaking around just to be with him. He was loved.

But he wasn’t sure he deserved to be. He couldn’t make himself believe that. Not right now. He wished Shane was with him. They’d only been apart for two days, but Ilya would gi...

He picked up the one nonconforming die and kissed it before rolling it. “No!” said David as soon as the die came to a stop. “Shit,” said Yuna. “Yahtzee!” Ilya yelled. He raised his arms in triumph.

“I don’t know why we invite you over,” Yuna grumbled. “Because I bring hand pies.” Ilya had learned from Harris about a bakery outside the city that sold the best hand pies Ilya had ever eaten. He especially liked the cherry ones.

Ilya’s phone rang then. When he saw who was calling, he grinned and stood up from the Hollanders’ kitchen table. “Let me guess who that is,” Yuna teased. Ilya winked at her as he walked into the living room and answered the call. “Hi.”

“Oh yeah? What are you doing there?” “Destroying them at Yahtzee.” Shane laughed. “Mom won’t like that.” “She loves me.”

“Cocky.” “Usually. But you like it.” Ilya’s lips curved up. “Yes.”

Ilya traced a finger over a photo of Shane in his junior hockey uniform. He looked about seventeen—the age he’d been when Ilya had first met him.

“Dick,” Shane said affectionately. “But you like it.” “I do. But I also like the rest of you.” His voice dipped into a more seductive tone. “I’ve been fucking dying to have you inside me, though.”

Ilya grinned. “You are on speaker phone by the way.” “What?” “I am kidding.” “Jesus.” Shane exhaled. ...

There was a long pause—the same long pause that made an appearance at the end of most of their phone conversations. Both men needing to end the call, neither one wanting to.

Ilya smiled at the photo of teenage Shane. “Ya lyublyu tebya.” “Ya vsegda budu tebya lubit,” Shane replied. “Show-off.”

They ended the call, and Ilya returned to the kitchen, shaking his head at how gross he and Shane had become.

But being in Canada, near Montreal, made it easier to be with Shane. Ilya could build a life here, in Shane’s hometown of Ottawa. Eventually he could become a Canadian citizen, and retire, and start a new adventure with Shane.

David had made chicken parmesan, one of Ilya’s favorites. Ilya had eaten more than he’d needed to. Especially after eating two hand pies.

“There’s ice cream,” Yuna said. “If you want some.” “No, thank you,” Ilya said. Then, “What kind?” Yuna smiled. “Cookies and cream.” Ilya put his hand over his heart. “Impossible to resist.”

A few minutes later, Ilya was tucked under a blanket on the couch, eating ice cream out of a little bowl. He felt like...

His dark hair stuck out from under his helmet the way it never had for most of his career. “His hair is too long,” Yuna complained. “No,” Ilya said quietly. “It is perfect.”

And then, Shane winked at the camera. Winked. And Ilya knew it was meant for him.

“That’s my move!” Ilya said. The blanket he’d been wrapped in fell to the floor as he stood, one hand waving at the television, the other cradling his ice cream bowl protectively to his chest. “He did my move!” David and Yuna were laughing. Ilya wasn’t.

“When did he learn that?” Ilya demanded. “I did not teach him.” “You know Shane,” Yuna said. “He studied it, learned it...